


I Have Loved You for a Hundred Years

by sociallyawkward_fics



Series: The Power of Love [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortality, Love, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, immortal Roach, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallyawkward_fics/pseuds/sociallyawkward_fics
Summary: The magic of love is a very powerful thing.(Edited as of 12/24/2020)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Power of Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677382
Comments: 56
Kudos: 708
Collections: Best Geralt





	I Have Loved You for a Hundred Years

**Author's Note:**

> Literally I have so many Witcher fics written that I'm too anxious to post but my lovely S anon on tumblr sent me an ask last night and this morning I just woke up completely feral for it so I wrote it lol. The ask was:
> 
> "Not necessarily a prompt but anyway, I refuse to believe someone like Jaskier is mortal, there just no way. He's gonna live forever because Geralt loves him. Also I am very aware that Roach is many horses, but she is also immortal for the same reasons. My thoughts (things I've shamelessly stolen) are Geralt has no idea how long people/horses live bc isolation and therefore doesn't realize that Jaskier should have probably aged by now. Anyway I just refuse to allow death to ruin this. ~S"
> 
> And this came out of it. It is NOT edited or beta'd, I literally finished writing it five minutes ago and now I'm posting it, lol
> 
> 12/24/2020 EDIT: Just went through and fixed some typos/grammar!

It started with Roach.

Geralt had had a number of horses throughout his life already, but he’d lost many of them, either stolen while he was off on a hunt, or unfortunately killed in action. Those were the hardest, and Geralt always stayed and spoke soft words to them until they passed.

He had never had a horse that had passed of old age, but he didn’t quite expect that in his line of work. It didn’t hurt. It _couldn’t_ hurt, because Geralt didn’t _feel_. They were just shadows and imprints of emotions that he had once felt, not things he was actually capable of feeling now.

The mutagens had burned that out of him.

But... Geralt _liked_ this one, this new Roach. Or, at least he would, if he was capable of things like “like.”

She was smart and sassy and the best travel companion he’d had yet by far. She wasn’t afraid, like the other horses had been, and she knew when to get out of the way to avoid getting killed. Plus, she didn’t let anyone touch her, so no one was able to steal her from him.

He wanted her to stay.

But he refused to let himself get attached (He _couldn’t_ get attached, he reminded himself, he wasn’t _able_ to get attached). She was just another horse, just a means of travel. He needed to be prepared for the moment she was killed by a monster, or some thief finally managed to get his hands on her.

And yet, that time never came.

Years passed, decades even, and this Roach was still with him. Geralt wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but she’d adjusted to his lifestyle and become the perfect companion for him. She was too fast for the monsters, too aggressive for the thieves, and Geralt’s faux-anxiety lessened knowing he would not lose her in these familiar ways.

He wasn’t sure how long horses lived, but he would make sure she passed comfortably when her time came. All that mattered was that she was here _now,_ and he would try his hardest to keep it that way.

Then came Jaskier.

Jaskier didn’t fear him. Jaskier didn’t fear the monsters (at least, not enough). And Jaskier was _stubborn_.

He didn’t leave Geralt’s side for months. Even when he did, it was only for a few weeks or, at most, months at a time. He always found his way back to Geralt’s side, no matter where he went.

He was loud, and obnoxious, and frankly rather useless, when it came to fighting or roughing it in the wilderness (though Geralt soon learned that he was _not_ so useless at fighting, after seeing Jaskier incapacitate two thugs on his own when he didn’t know Geralt was watching), but eventually Geralt got used to having him around.

Even Roach seemed to like him. She normally refused to let anyone touch her aside from Geralt, but she docilely let Jaskier braid flowers into her mane and tail, pack her saddlebags, lead her when Geralt was busy. She even let him ride her, on the occasions where he was injured and Geralt allowed it.

So Geralt subjected himself to his fate and stopped trying to drive Jaskier off. It was just as well. Jaskier brought more business, with his friendly nature and the praise he wrote into Geralt's songs.

He wheedled stories out of Geralt, getting just enough ale in Geralt to where his tongue was loosened, but not so much that he didn’t know what he was doing or saying. Geralt wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be so. Jaskier wrote song after song about Geralt’s scars and hunts, making him out to be a hero rather than the monster he was. 

So Jaskier stayed. And Roach stayed.

No matter what happened, the two of them always seemed to be with him. He didn’t even think anything of it until after he’d finally found Ciri and they sought refuge with Yennefer as they figured out their next move.

“How old is Roach?” Ciri asked as she and Jaskier grabbed the bags off of her.

Geralt saw Jaskier go still out of the corner of his eye as he prepared Roach’s feed. He stayed like that for a moment or two, before frowning at Roach and gently rubbing her neck.

“I am not actually sure, on that one,” Jaskier said slowly, which set Geralt on edge. Jaskier didn’t _speak_ slowly. “Geralt’s had her as long as I’ve been travelling with him. She’s certainly getting up there in years, now.”

Ciri hummed sadly, laying a careful hand on her nose. “How long have you two been travelling together?” She asked hesitantly.

Jaskier gave her a bright grin that was somehow both completely authentic and completely fake. “Going on 22 years now,” he said cheerfully. “Though I remember our first adventure together as if it was yesterday...”

Geralt rolled his eyes as Jaskier launched into a _highly_ embellished account of what actually happened.

They made their way inside and chose their rooms in the, frankly, for Geralt’s taste, far too grand mansion that Yennefer was currently residing in. Ciri seemed fascinated with the woman, eager to pick her brain, and Jaskier was as catty as usual, even though he and Yennefer claimed to have gotten over their weird feud years ago.

Then, during dinner, Ciri’s curious childhood nature showed through again.

“Wait, Jaskier,” she said. “If you’ve been travelling with Geralt for _22_ years, how old does that make _you_?”

Jaskier gave a playfully offended gasp. “I am _only_ in my _40′s_ , for your information, Princess!”

Yennefer paused, fork halfway to her mouth, and stared at Jaskier. The look set Geralt on edge, and he watched her carefully.

Then the moment passed. She kept eating, Ciri teased Jaskier about his age and asked Geralt and Yennefer how old _they_ were, Geralt relaxed back into his chair and continued eating himself.

But he _was_ going to find out what that was.

Jaskier and Ciri retired early, both exhausted from the day’s (weeks, months of) travel. Geralt stayed up, as did Yennefer, and she poured them both a drink.

“What was that?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer gave him a bored glance. “Really, Geralt, you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“The look you gave Jaskier during dinner.”

Instead of answering him, Yennefer leaned back in her chair and gave Geralt an appraising look. “Tell me,” she said. “Jaskier’s been travelling with you for all these years, has he changed much?”

“What do you mean?”

Yennefer leaned forward again “If you ask me, that man doesn’t look a day over 25, and even that’s being generous, because frankly, he could be far younger. And yet, he says he’s in his 40's.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “He’s very particular about caring for his skin. He claims his features are very important to his line of work.”

Yennefer hummed. “I don’t think all the moisturizer in the world could keep him looking _that_ young.”

“What are you implying, Yen?”

“I’m _implying_ that your bard went and caught himself a case of immortality, Geralt. And maybe that horse, as well, based on the conversation I heard. How long did you say you’d had her?”

“I didn’t,” Geralt said through grit teeth. “And how the _fuck_ would Jaskier have gotten immortality?”

Yennefer sipped from her wine glass. “How old is Roach, Geralt?”

Geralt growled. “I stopped keeping track. She’s been with me far longer than Jaskier.”

Yennefer hummed, and Geralt suddenly understood why everyone around him found that kind of response so annoying.

“ _What_?”

“Did you know the average live expectancy of a horse is something around 20 to 30 years?”

Geralt faltered. That... couldn’t be right. Roach was... Well, he didn’t know _how_ old Roach was, but that was the point, wasn’t it? She was certainly well over 30 at this point, probably well over 40, maybe more.

“Geralt, I’ve been around a long time. _We’ve_ been around a long time. We watch people age and die and change around us while we remain stagnant. Tell me you don’t think it’s odd that Jaskier hasn’t aged a day in years. Not since _I’ve_ met him, at least, perhaps for longer.”

Geralt didn’t reply for a few minutes. “How did this happen?” He eventually asked.

Yennefer crossed her legs and relaxed back into her chair. “Magic comes in many forms, you know. Quite a few of them unassuming.”

“Get _on_ with it, Yen!”

“Love is a very powerful magic.”

“Love?!” Geralt said incredulously.

“Love.” Yennefer confirmed.

“ _Whose_ love?”

Yennefer looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. She spoke very slowly. “You love them, Geralt.”

Now, Geralt looked at _her_ as if _she’d_ grown a second head. He also spoke slowly. “I’m a _witcher_ . Witcher’s don’t _feel_ , Yennefer.”

“Geralt, you absolute idiot,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“The mutagens erase any ability to feel, Yen. You know that.”

“No, I know that you _think_ that. Tell me, who else would love Roach enough for magic to take hold to allow her to live endlessly? Who else would love Jaskier enough to halt his aging, and still be around to love him all these years later?”

Geralt floundered for an answer. He found none. “It has to be something else.”

“I checked.” Yennefer said, raising a lazy eyebrow. “There is nothing else. Their lives are now bound to yours through the power of your love. Barring any fatal injuries, they will be with you forever.”

Geralt stared at his untouched wine.

“Go to bed,” Yennefer said gently.

And so Geralt did.

But when he opened the door to the room he'd chosen, both Ciri _and_ Jaskier were already there, resting comfortably in his bed. Ciri slept soundly against Jaskier’s chest, but Jaskier sat up against the headboard and pillows, reading a book from Yennefer’s collection.

“It’s about time,” Jaskier whispered, but when he looked up, he was smiling.

“She okay?” Geralt asked, removing his boots near the doorway.

“Another nightmare. She came looking for you, but you hadn’t come to bed yet. I figured we could both just wait here until you did.”

Geralt hummed and climbed into the bed next to Jaskier. He leaned over Jaskier to press a gentle kiss to Ciri’s brow, and she muttered in her sleep, relaxing further into Jaskier. Then, Geralt summoned all his courage and pressed another kiss to Jaskier’s brow before settling in to sleep, arms around them both.

“Geralt--” Jaskier said, almost breathlessly.

“Shh,” Geralt hummed, plucking the book out of Jaskier’s hands and tossing it aside. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

For once, Jaskier listened to him. He shimmied down in the bed until he and Ciri were laying down, and Geralt readjusted his grip on them to be more comfortable. Ciri sighed in her sleep and Jaskier smiled at him, and Geralt couldn’t help but return it.

In all truth, it would take him some time to come to terms with how he’d accidentally affected these lives that collided with his, and he knew he had to talk about it with Jaskier. 

But laying here with Jaskier in a warm, comfortable bed, his -- _their_ \-- new daughter safe in their arms together, Geralt wasn’t scared.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Tell me if there's any typos or if my characterization is abysmal, please, there's a reason I have so many finished Witcher fics I am not posting yet lol. Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or kudos if you feel so inclined. You can find me on tumblr at sociallyawkward-fics!


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